///LORDSOF///

'Inflammation of the bronchial tubes' -- a phrase I often used in forged truancy-excuse letters at my all girls high school in New Zealand. Thirty-three letters later, I found myself being called to the dean's office where he presented me with a small black binder. Flipping through it, my own handwriting's attempt at my mother's signature fluttered about near the end of each ruled leaf. He didn't even bother to state the obvious, just gave me a look of stern disappointment, eyes wide and lips taut. Detention was to be attended for as many days as I skipped -- this was fine by me. Collecting trash around campus was much more tolerable than being stuck in a pallid room, barely awake, staring not at but through a teacher whose monotonous lecture always became a background drone to the daydream looping in my head.

Five mornings ago, I woke up with legitimate bronchitis. With no school to skip, no dean to disappoint, and no belief in the health-damaging, capitalist pharmaceutical industry, I prescribed myself an extra abundance of juices, smoothies, multivitamins, and superfoods for the next few days. But of course the most lasting remedy would be for me to quit smoking cigarettes. This ever-recurring cough is getting really old. I've quit so many other harmful things I used to ingest, why not this one too?

Having been, for the most part, loft-ridden this past week, I realized that solitude is much more valuable and enjoyable when one is in good health. Solitude when sick kind of just amplifies a desperation for tender, loving, caring company (read: mom or boyfriend) and tips very easily into becoming its close relative: loneliness. Thus, I finally got back into reading real paperback books that I can hold in the flesh; I finally got around to adding more layers to that beautiful mandala Ixchel and I started painting months ago on my bedroom wall; I finally found some free movies online that were compatible enough with my current mood to hold my attention the whole way through.

I drank a Jamaican ginger beer and several cups of chamomile tea with surfer turned skateboarder turned head-tatted-whiteboy-cholo-gangster, Jay Adams. Such a brilliant and admirable character; a real kid, not a sellout like all the rest. The idea of skating bowls and pools had been weaving a small desire within me these past sunny seasons, but while watching Lords of Dogtown the idea enveloped me with an urgent ambition, excitedly stating: YOU WILL LEARN HOW TO SKATE BOWLS.

Alien Workshop Colorsync II

Keith Haring x Alien Workshop

Penny Rasta (my baby board!) /// Flip Love Shroom /// World Industries Velvet

Penny Organic: Biodegradable plastic deck that eventually breaks down when fully immersed in soil due to a unique additive which reacts with enzymes in the earth to decompose. Comes wrapped in a hessian tote bag. Of course I want one.

Artworks by Anai Greog /// Compositions by me